


The Tiger and the Madman

by i_am_not_a_psychopath



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-01
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:46:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_not_a_psychopath/pseuds/i_am_not_a_psychopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He would have just shot the man if the man had made any move to harm him, but since he hadn't, Sebastian would settle for threatening him. He also refrained from shooting the intruder because he could see there was something of the tiger in this man. Even if this tiger was a slim Irish looking man wearing an obviously expensive custom tailored suit and sitting on the floor of his tiny flat."</p><p>The tales of Sebastian Moran's living with, working for, and relationship with James Moriarty</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The former Colonel Sebastian Moran fumbled with the keys to his dingy little flat. He had been discharged from the army for nearly a year now, and in that time he had been hired a total of four times, each job only lasting for about a month before he was fired. He was currently out of work, his last job as a bodyguard had ended badly when he had punched the man he was supposed to be protecting. Sebastian did not generally take well to being given orders by someone whom he disliked. This was part of the reason for his being discharged from the army.

But at the moment, Sebastian Moran was drunkenly attempting to get into his flat. He finally managed to get the key in, and the door open, and stumbled over to his sofa, not bothering to walk to the bedroom or to change clothes. He put his handgun on the floor next to him, and passed out.

He awoke with a jolt and grabbed his gun from the floor. The dream had been about tiger hunting in India. He had been stalking a beautiful female through the forest, both hunters silent as the night. Then Sebastian had trodden on a stick, and the snap had alerted to cat to his presence. The tiger had spun around and leaped towards him, massive teeth and claws about to rip him to shreds, and he heard music. More specifically, Staying Alive by the BeesGees. Sebastian had dreamt of the tiger so often, that the danger of the beast no longer awoke him. It was the strange presence of "Staying Alive" which had caused him to jump.

He stood up and pointed the gun down at the head of the slim man sitting cross legged on the floor.

"Who the fuck are you?" Sebastian demanded gruffly.

He would have just shot the man if the man had made any move to harm him, but since he hadn't, Sebastian would settle for threatening him. He also refrained from shooting the intruder because he could see there was something of the tiger in this man. Even if this tiger was a slim Irish looking man wearing an obviously expensive custom tailored suit and sitting on the floor of his tiny flat.

"Hmm, jumpy aren't we? Put the gun away and maybe I'll tell you" The Irishman sounded rather bored, like telling someone to put down the gun they were aiming at his head was the equivalent of exchanging common pleasantries at a party you didn't really want to be at.

Sebastian shifted his stance so that he was at a slight angle to the man on the floor, but he didn't move the position of the gun.  
"First tell me who you are and what the hell you are doing sitting in my flat."

The other man stood up and straightened out his suit jacket and tie, brushing off the back of his trousers too. Sebastian moved the gun to keep it positioned at the man's head. While Sebastian was much taller and stronger than the other, he thought the stranger seemed like he might launch at him any moment, like the tiger from his dreams.

"The name's Jim Moriarty, hi, " Jim Moriarty drew out the last letter of the greeting and his mouth widened into a grin. "And as for what I'm doing here, well I'm looking to hire you for a job. More specifically, to be a sniper, assassin, bodyguard, and to do whatever I tell you. So now that I've answered your questions, be a dear and put the gun down. I don't fancy being shot at the moment." The man was still very causal for the situation not actually being in his favour.

He relaxed his stance a bit, and moved one hand away from the gun, but did not move his aim from Moriarty's head.

"Why should I do that? You might just pull a gun yourself and shoot me." Sebastian was by nature not one to trust others and he was also paraniod after the army.

"Hmm, you're not trusting at all, good, trust never gets anyone anywhere," Even though he was still looking at Sebastian, he seemed to be talking more to himself as he said this. His next words were directed at Sebastian though. "But how are you with following orders? Not very good it seems from your job backgrounds."  
Sebastian flushed ever so slightly at this.

"I tended to disagree with the people I worked for."

"Well when you work for me there can be none of that, understand?" Moriarty had become suddenly serious and business like. Sebastian found himself thinking that this bipolar personality would be hard to work with at times, and banished the thought quickly.

"When did I agree to work for you?"

"Oh, you have already and you know it, don't pretend otherwise." Moriarty's switch back to sing-song was near infuriating because of course, he was right, Sebastian had already unconsciously decided to work for the strange Irish man.  
Sebastian lowered the gun and fully relaxed his stance.

"Yeah, alright, I'll work for you." he said, allowing a easy smile to slide across his mouth. He was looking forward to a chance to get to be a sniper again, even if this time it was obviously illegal.

"Good, now, get cleaned up, and bring your gun to this address," Moriarty handed him a folded piece of paper. "I need you to start immediately."

"Yes boss."

"Good, have fun Sebastian!"  
Jim Moriarty strolled out of Sebastian's flat whistling.  
Sebastian Moran walked to the bedroom to get changed without thinking twice about following the orders given to him by his new boss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Sebastian did a job for Moriarty, he hadn't asked any questions. The second time however, he did.

Sebastian took a breath and held it in, keeping absolutely still. He lined up the shot, the to-be victim's head right in the centre of cross-hairs. He counted three heart beats, and on the third, he tensed his body ever so slightly and pulled the trigger. He watched through the scope as the bullet hit the man square in the forehead and the body dropped to the ground. Sebastian sat up and began to take apart and pack up the rifle.

If one were to compare Sebastian's current appearance to that of his appearance before he was hired by James Moriarty, consulting criminal, one may only at first notice that he had a nicer haircut and cleaner clothes. For the most part, this was the biggest change. However, someone more observant may have seen that now, he was wearing designer jeans, top of the line hunting boots, his shirt was nicely cut and well made, and his underwear were from some ridiculously over priced brand. But then again, one may not notice that last bit. (he hadn't purchased those by choice, Moriarty had wanted him to, he had no idea why though.) Sebastian now also had a purpose to his life. Before, he hadn't cared about anything, and he had nothing to do with his life. Everyday had been made up of drink, sex, sleep, and crap television. Now he no longer drank constantly, and he never had time for crap telly. Of course he still slept, and occasionally would bring home some girl from a bar or club, but Moriarty always seemed a bit pissed at him the next morning when he did that. Sebastian had found that very weird at first, because he could not understand why that would even affect his boss, they didn’t live together, and he was off work those nights. But he had realized that Moriarty was very possessive about his things, and that included Sebastian Moran.

Sebastian couldn't exactly explain his relationship with Moriarty to anyone, including himself most of the time. He worked for him, he killed for him, tortured for him, guarded him, and even made tea for the man on occasion. He did anything and everything ha was told. And if Moriarty told him to kill a man, he would ask how he wanted it done.

Of course at first he would ask questions: "What'd he do?" and "Why?", but he soon learned not to.  
The first time Sebastian did a job for Moriarty, he hadn't asked any questions. The second time however, he did.

He had received the information over a text, a method Moriarty would use a lot actually. He rarely if never physically met with most of his clients and staff, Sebastian was an exception to this. But his second job was over text, and the instructions told him to kill a man and his wife. It gave pictures and a location, but no details as to the motive. So he had texted back "Why?” He received no response, so he went and did the job anyway thinking it best not to ignore his boss.

Right after he had finished the job and walked out of the building, he was jumped and knocked out with a drug. He awoke tied to a chair in a dark room. He had not panicked; he had been in bad situations during the war. But he was very surprised when Jim Moriarty walked out of the shadows.

"Hello Sebby," he had said grinning in a sing song voice. "You've disappointed me." Despite the sing song, playful manner, Sebastian had detected the icy rage of a pissed off psychopath.

He had decided it would be a very bad idea to struggle, so he kept still and watched Moriarty pace in front of him.

"I think you need to be taught a little lesson about obedience. And not questioning me. It should prove useful if I decide to keep you."  
He had stopped smiling then, and the playful mask was gone, replaced by fire and ice.

"You will never question me about my motives, understood?" Sebastian had nodded, realizing that his mistake had nothing to do with how he had killed the people, but the question of "Why?”

"Oh, but I don't think you do fully. Because that's what you said when I first hired you. And that first time you didn't question me at all, and I was pleased, thought you'd be an excellent personal sniper. But I appear to have thought wrong haven't I Sebby? So now I'm disappointed in you. I'm disappointed!"

He had hit him, growling in what was more of annoyance than rage. Then he stood right in from of him and jerked Sebastian's head up and stared right into his eyes and said in a low growl "You. Are. Mine." And jabbed a needle into his neck.

Sebastian had woken up the next morning in his flat, bruised but not seriously injured, and thankfully, not dead. He had not questioned Moriarty's motives for killing someone directly again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other difficulty with Moriarty was that Sebastian could never predict anything about him.  
> A perfect example of this was when Sebastian reached his flat and unlocked the door; he found the flat completely empty, except for a time bomb counting down from 50.  
> “What the hell?” Sebastian looked closer at the bomb and noticed a bright green sticky-note stuck to it which read “Better start running, Sebby!”

Sebastian slung the duffel bag containing his rifle over his shoulder and walked up the stairs to his much nicer that the one before it flat. There were many a perk to working for Moriarty. One was that he was very well paid. He had never been too focused on money; he had come from a wealthy family who had provided for him before he had gone into the army. And even after that, he found he didn’t really care about having money.

But if he had the money, he definitely wouldn’t complain.

Other perks of the job included that he was able to relax and do (almost) anything he liked between kills. He also just enjoyed his job now.

However, Jim Moriarty was still hard to work with sometimes.

Sebastian was top of command other than to Moriarty, but even then he still rarely saw the man. He mostly received job info via text or email, but sometimes the details were given to him in other ways.

A few times the jobs had been written down on a coaster under his beer, but he never saw who had written it. Also a few times, the message had been whispered by someone sliding up next to him on a dance floor, or in a large crowd on the side walk. Again, he never saw the person. Those modes of communication were hardly odd to him, but once Moriarty had sent him a bomb with a riddle that contained the job details. If Sebastian hadn’t finished the riddle and the job in time, the bomb would be detonated. That message had nearly blown up his’s flat.

The other difficulty with Moriarty was that Sebastian could never predict anything about him.

A perfect example of this was when Sebastian reached his flat and unlocked the door; he found the flat completely empty, except for a time bomb counting down from 50.

“What the hell?” he looked closer at the bomb and noticed a bright green sticky-note stuck to it which read “Better start running, Sebby!”  
He turned out the door and ran.

  
The bomb in his second story room went off when Sebastian had gotten about 50 feet away.

The blast wasn’t as powerful as Moriarty’s bombs tended to be, but Sebastian dropped to the ground and covered his head as debris fell around him.

Sebastian stood back up and ran for a bit longer to get away from the bomb site, he didn’t want to have to answer any police questions.

He was about three blocks away when his phone rang.

“Hi Sebby! Heard about the explosion, I do hope you’re alive.” Moriarty’s sing-song voice and mock concern came from the other end.

“Boss, you bastard, what the hell was that?” he was seriously pissed that Moriarty had blown up his flat, and he had absolutely no idea why Moriarty might try to kill him or whatever it had been about.

“I do believe it was a bomb, dear.”

“That’s not what I-“

“But anyways, since your flat was blown to bits, I suppose you’d better come live with me now.”

He was surprised by this. Moriarty hadn’t seemed at all interested in having a flatmate, and the man certainly didn’t need one.  
“What? Wh-” He was cut off again. This time Moriarty’s voice was icy.

“Sebastian, do remember what I said about you asking why.”

“Right, yes Boss. You could have just asked me to come live with you though.”

“Hmm, yes, I suppose. Well this way’s more fun isn’t?” Moriarty’s voice was back to his normal soft Irish accent.

“Sure.” he sighed. “What’s the address?”

“I’ll send a car. See ya Seb.”

Sebastian pocketed his mobile and a black Audi pulled up to him.

****

He got out of the back seat and grabbed his bag from the trunk. The car drove off as Sebastian looked at the building.  
He wasn’t really one for architecture, but he could appreciate the design of the building.  
He rang the doorbell, feeling ridiculously like a kid going over to a friend’s house for the night.  
He heard the pounding of feet running down stairs, and Moriarty nearly slammed into the door as he opened it.

“Hiii Seb.” Moriarty actually looked sort of pleased to see him, which scared him a little bit. Moriarty usually only looked pleased to see corpses and soon-to-be corpses.

“Hey Boss.” Sebastian replied gruffly, unsure of what to do, but deciding it best to question Moriarty about the bomb when they were inside.

“Come up, I’ll show you the flat.”

The living room was large and open feeling. There were adjacent large windows taking up two of the walls, and the other wall was a bookshelf filled completely with books, and a large flat screen TV.

The seating was all dark red or grey leather, and the wooden furniture was black. Anything that was metal was either stainless steel or reclaimed iron. The floor was concrete, but in many places it was covered with faded persian rugs. The wall paper varied, but the colours were always grey or black, and the patterns were a sort of Victorian abstract print. There were patches of brick exposed, but it was very tasteful. Some of the furniture had a Victorian look to it though. A lot of the books were bound in leather; there was a glass chemistry set on the desk by the bookshelf; and the fireplace was ornate and detailed.  
Altogether the flat was well lit, tidy, and nicely designed. Sebastian realized he had half expected Moriarty’s flat to be some sort of classic evil villain lair with low lighting, high backed chairs, a pipe organ and a creepy servant.  
But the flat suited Moriarty with his Westwood suits and dapper shoes.

“Your room’s to the right, mine’s to the left.” Moriarty was saying.  
“The room across from your bedroom has a punching bag and such, but it’s also the room for any interrogations we might be conducting. Do not go into my room, or the one across from it, understood?”

He nodded. “Yeah Boss. Got it.”

Sebastian had been busy thinking about the flat and he had forgotten that he was pissed off at Moriarty for blowing up his previous flat. He remembered now, but he didn’t really feel like pursuing the topic at the moment.

“Mmkay. Make yourself at home.” Moriarty seemed to have lost interest in having a flatmate, and he wandered over to the couch and turned on the television.  
Sebastian decided he was tired and went into the room designated his to take a nap.


	4. Chapter 4

Life with Jim Moriarty was interesting to say the least. Never again could Sebastian complain about having nothing to do.

The first month was the hardest for him. While he had learned some about dealing with Jim's unpredictable behaviour, he had never lived through the extent of it.  
Sebastian had been living with Jim for five weeks when he realized that while there was no way to understand or predict Jim's moods, he could classify them and act accordingly.

Jim always ran either boiling hot or freezing cold. There was absolutely no in-between with any mood or behaviour.  
There were good days, where he would be as close to sane as possible. If they didn't have a job on one of those days, Jim would usually watch telly, read, or do whatever hobby he felt like pursuing. If they were on a job, deals were less likely to end in dead bodies, and torture may not be quite so long for the person who had bothered him.  
Then there were bad days. If there was no job, Jim would rage, scream, destroy, and usually find someone to kill violently. Those bad days are the ones all clients and targets pray to never see.

This hot or cold behaviour extended to everything.

Jim would eat only the best foods and the finest wines, then he would live off of neon coloured junk food and fizzy energy drinks.

He would blast the Scissor Sisters or the BeesGees throughout the flat at three in the morning, and the next day he would politely listen to classical composers using headphones.

Some days Jim would want to sit right next to Sebastian on the couch, or always be near him and be very physical (ruffling hair, straightening clothes, and sometimes punching him) and he talked a lot those days. But other days he would sit nowhere near anyone, shying away from human contact. Those days he rarely spoke a word.  
He would also sometimes express the thoughts that came into his mad head. He would pace, squirm, and never sit still, always muttering loudly or flat out talking. But sometimes he would sit completely silent, barely moving. When he did that, Sebastian knew better than to try to interact with Jim. At first he tried, but he was met with a blank gaze because on those days Jim wasn't in the world anymore, he had gotten himself trapped within the endless mazes and loops of his brilliant mind.

Sebastian followed Jim everywhere no matter what mood he was in. But when Jim ventured into the wild, dark abyss of his thoughts, Sebastian had no way to follow.

Another trait of Jim's which made life interesting for Sebastian was that Jim was quite fond of using him as a punching bag of sorts.

The first time this happened was during one of Jim's bad days. They had just returned to the flat after a deal with a criminal that had not gone exactly to plan. One of the crime leader's snipers had obviously panicked, and had shot one of Jim's bodyguards in the lung. This had of course led to a bit of difficulty in the deal since one of the snipers Sebastian was in charge of had then shot the first sniper, and everybody had pulled guns. During all this Jim had remained completely still, with a ever so slight smile on his face and a look that sent such a strong aura of insanity and anger that Sebastian had barely contained a shudder from two stories above Jim.  
The deal had been finished with only three bodies (the first two and the sniper who had shot the other. Jim was mad and needed someone to kill.) But the deal had still not been to plan.

Jim had walked into the flat first, and Sebastian had been taken completely by surprise when Jim whipped around and punched him in the jaw. Sebastian's training kicked in and he responded with a jab to the solar plexus that would have left Jim winded and bent double, but Jim was quick and had gotten out of the way.

Jim was glaring at Sebastian with the look of a feral cat facing another in an alley.

"Jim, clam down." Sebastian knew that Jim was angry about the deal, but not mad at Sebastian enough to kill him. If he wanted Sebastian dead he would be buried by now.

"I'll not fucking CALM DOWN SEBASTIAN!" He screamed the last words and lunged and Sebastian, throwing him against the wall and pinning him there. Jim was shorter and much slighter than him, but Sebastian wasn't going to do anything stupid such as attacking his boss.

"Jim. Just calm down, okay?"

Jim slapped Sebastian across the face.

"Lost your fight Tiger? Gotten soft? Come on."

Jim hit him again, and again Sebastian remained still.

"HIT ME!"

So Sebastian did. He shoved Jim away from him, sending the smaller man back a few feet.  
Jim chuckled "Hmm, much more like it. Come on Tiger! Let's see those teeth!"

He barred his teeth at Jim and they attacked each other.

They punched and kicked and scratched and bit. They slammed the other to the ground and rolled around until they got up and launched at each other.  
When they finally had to stop, they were both bruised and bleeding, but Sebastian found himself more injured than Jim. Jim was fast and surprisingly strong, and his perfect nails were thin and sharp.

"Good, good. The tiger still is a fighter." Jim's voice sounded off due to a split lip and probably a blow to the neck.

"But next time, don't you dare mark up my face. Now go get cleaned up. And don't get blood on the white towels."  
Jim grinned and madman's grin and Sebastian smiled back at him with the smile of a tiger.


	5. Chapter 5

At about three months of living together, mornings as Jim’s flatmate had fallen into a sort of routine for Sebastian. He would wake up at five thirty, make himself toast along with strong black coffee and would then set to cleaning and checking his various guns and weapons. He would do that until Jim woke up around eight. If Jim slept, he would sleep late as a rule. Eight was his earliest, Sebastian had seen him sleep until noon a few times, but most days it was around eight to nine. Many days Jim didn’t sleep at all though, and then he would be up and bouncing about the flat at four. Sebastian always wondered what Jim did when he didn’t sleep, but he had a feeling it was either work related or slightly creepy. But in the mornings after sleep Jim was quite different from his usual energetic self. He never paid much attention to what he was doing, and he seemed to have mastered the art of sleeping while preforming the normal person actions of preparing food and eating it. Well, nearly mastered.

Sebastian was positive that if Jim didn’t die for a job or he didn’t murder him himself, Jim would die from falling asleep with his head on the stove. In order to keep this from happening, Sebastian had more than once made Jim breakfast and had to keep propping him upright.

Today was one of those days where Jim didn’t seem to have slept.

“Sebby.”

“mmhng”

“Seeeeeb.”

“mnng”

“WAKEY WAKEY SEBBY!” This time Jim had grabbed Sebastian’s shoulder and attempted to shake him.

Sebastian grabbed Jim and threw him onto the bed and pinned him down. He sat above Jim’s torso and was holding down Jim’s left shoulder with one hand and had the knife he kept under his pillow pressed to the smaller man's throat. They had been like this many times before when wrestling, but usually Sebastian hadn't just been woken up much too early in the morning.

He pressed the flat face of the knife to Jim’s neck and sighed.

“What boss?”

Jim laughed and grabbed Sebastian’s wrist, pulling his arm across his body. At the same he brought up right leg against Sebastian’s chest and also kicked Sebastian’s right leg back with his left. He pulled the wrist and pushed up with the right leg slamming the larger man onto his back, pinning the knife and gaining control.

Sebastian probably had at least sixty pounds on Jim, and five inches, but Jim was actually quite good at fighting, and had gotten quite good at jujitsu at some point.

“Well Sebby, today we have a job! How fun!” Jim was always interesting when he was a spaz from lack of sleep. Sebastian had found that when Jim was in this mood, it was best to go along with it, even if he needed at least three cups of coffee to be that jumpy in the morning.

“So I get to shoot someone, yeah?”

“Yup. And today I feel like coming along because I’ve been booored and there isn’t anything else to dooo.” Jim looked and sounded like he wasn’t paying any more attention to holding Sebastian down, but Sebastian had learned not to be deceived by this from another occasion. He could still feel the tension in the grip on the knife, and Jim obviously felt when Sebastian cringed ever so slightly with displeasure at the idea of Jim coming along.

Part of a sniper assassination was long silent waits without moving or breaking concentration. Sebastian could stay absolutely still for nearly an entire day, but Jim could hardly sit still for three seconds when he was in the mood he was obviously in.

“Is there a problem Seb?” Jim’s voice was much too close to the dangerous icy tone that foreshadowed pain and death for whomever it was directed at, and for Sebastian to feel comfortable with Jim sitting above him holding a knife.

“Not at all Boss. Shall I get my rifle ready?”

Jim smiled and got off of his chest.

“Yes, that’s a good Tiger. We’ll be leaving within the hour.” Jim straightened his shirt and walked out of Sebastian’s room.

Sebastian lit a cigarette from the pack by his bedside and got out of bed to get dressed and pack his gun.

***

The target was a smuggler who he and Jim had met with a few days ago to discuss payment for goods coming out of Africa. The smuggler had done business with Moriarty before, and he had some reputation to his name, but he had made a fatal mistake with this deal.

The previous deal had gone right to Jim’s plan, and the smuggler was happy with the payment. But this time the smuggler had gotten much too sure of himself and had attempted to cheat Moriarty.

He had procured a few elephant tusks, and Jim would have been happy to buy them to sell later, but the price was much too high. He had nearly made the deal too, but near the end Jim had sent Sebastian to check the goods and he had noticed that the tucks weren't treated properly, and were even chipped in a few places.

Now, Sebastian was watching the man’s hotel window through his sniper scope.

Jim coming along had so far not proven as much of a problem as Sebastian had feared. Jim’s mood had obviously changed, for now he was sitting quietly and hadn’t pestered him much in the two hours they had been there. Either that or his lack-of-sleep high had worn off and he hadn’t had any caffeine.

It was nearly reaching the three hour mark when the target came into his hotel room. As he walked closer to the window, Sebastian tensed and moved his finger to the trigger. He kept every muscle in his body still, waiting. He lined up the shot perfectly and held his breath, counting his heart beats. One… Two… Three. And he pulled the trigger.

The bullet went right through the smuggler’s forehead and the body dropped from sight.

Sebastian growled in happiness and arched his back like a cat waking up from a nap. He stood up and rotated his shoulders, loosening them from the stiffness from being tensed in the same position for two hours.

He remembered Jim and turned around to see Jim’s face near his and to feel Jim’s hands roughly grab his military style jacket and pull him close. Then he felt Jim’s lips on his.

Sebastian was still filled with adrenaline from the kill, and his first instinct was to jump back. But he suppressed the urge and instead moved forward into Jim.

Jim’s mouth felt nothing like what Sebastian realized he had thought. The softness of his’s lips and the warmth of his body were almost surprising, like Sebastian had expected him to feel cold and dead.

There were also the little things about Jim that Sebastian never thought of. There was the faint scratch of the stubble on his’s upper lip and chin. And there were the curls in his hair Sebastian noticed now that he ran his hand through it, messing up the styling.

The whole event was much different that Sebastian would have thought. Jim didn’t claw and bite. The kiss wasn’t all tongue and teeth and grabbing hands.

It was sweet really, and that was something Sebastian had never seen in the other man. This was almost frightening to him, but not enough to scare him off.

But then the kiss changed suddenly. Jim bit down hard on Sebastian's lower lip, and the battle for control began. It was no longer any sort of affectionate act, but war.They bit and growled and sucked, each trying for entrance to the others mouth. 

This kiss also revealed new details about Jim. Sebastain found that a few of the teeth on the bottom row were slightly chipped, giving them a jagged feel. His mouth tasted like firey cinnimon, which went well with Jim's spiced cologne and also fitted him perfetly.

This was the Jim Moriarty Sebastian would have expected.

They broke apart to breath, and Sebastian looked dumbly at Jim, his emotions were rather amuck, and his brain seemed to have died from too many chemicals racing through it.

“Erm.”

Jim breathlessly laughed and grinned his madman grin at Sebastian.  
“Good shot Tiger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel this is going rather well!  
> If anyone has an comment or suggestions, I would love that.
> 
> If anyone's seen the Gorillaz converse ad, I imagine Jim is a lot like Murdoc in the mornings.
> 
> Another thing in case anyone is interested: the move Jim used when he and Seb were wrestling actually works. I've used it on a guy who's bigger than me by the same amount Seb is to Jim.


	6. Chapter 6

_The pulse jumped out on Jim’s pale throat as he rolled his head to the side, crouching low over Sebastian, examining his prey. Sebastian felt his own heart beat faster as Jim ran his fingers over the scars on his chest, nails digging ever so slightly, mimicking the claws of the tiger that had left its mark on Sebastian’s torso. Each of Sebastian’s hands were cuffed to either side of the headboard, putting him on display for Jim to use and play with at his leisure. He wanted to grab Jim and hold him down, taking and touching and tasting every bit of him. But Jim was absolutely in control here, and he supposed that was rather the point of handcuffs._

The drive back from the rooftop kiss had been completely silent. This may have been extremely awkward in most cases, but Sebastian was glad for the quite, it had given him time to think. He had been mildly interested in men before, he had chatted them up in bars, gave a few a kiss on the cheek, and made-out a few times when he was drunk. But he had never had sex with one, or ever considered any sort of relationship. But Jim had changed everything about his life.

_Jim put his hands against the headboard, to either side of Sebastian’s head. He leaned down to the left, his breath hot on Sebastian’s collar bone. His tongue flicked out like a snake’s and he laughed under his breath when Sebastian tilted his head back to the right to open up his throat, silently begging for Jim to rip it out._

Sebastian hadn’t actually thought of his boss in that way before. Sure, he had noticed that Jim was quite attractive with his pale skin, big dark eyes, and slim body, but he hadn’t even realized Jim might be interested in sex. Jim seemed to always be in his head, and the topics were crimes and astronomy, never people. But Jim certainly was interested in Sebastian.

 Sebastian had driven back, thinking about Jim and sorting his own feelings. He was attracted to Jim, he was drawn to him in the same way he was drawn to the tiger, but this tiger was a man, and this tiger he could kiss and touch.

Jim all the while had been curled up in the passenger seat texting, not appearing to be paying any attention to Sebastian. He realized that Jim had probably figured the whole thing out long before that day.

_Jim ran his tongue from Sebastian’s collar to the centere of his neck, where his throat stood out. He pressed kisses up and down the ridges, and moved down to the dip and the base of his neck and paused for a moment. Sebastian let out a growling whine, pleading for Jim to not stop. Jim barred his teeth in a feral smile and growled back. He tangled his right hand in Sebastian’s hair and yanked his head further to the side. He lunged for Sebastian’s neck and bit down hard. He kneaded and worried the flesh between his teeth, like a tiger cub with meat. The fragile skin broke and bled, Jim liked the wound clean and moved Sebastian’s head back. Jim pressed his mouth against Sebastian’s and he could taste his own blood on the other’s lips._

The silence continued until they had gone inside the flat. Sebastian had been unsure of what to do next in order to avoid awkwardness, but Jim had acted. Sebastian had gone inside first, and Jim had slammed the door behind them. He turned to Jim and the smaller man shoved him against the wall. This kiss was much like Sebastian would have thought. Jim kissed like he fought: grabbing and biting and clawing. Jim was quick and kept moving away from Sebastian’s mouth, so he had grabbed Jim’s head and held him and kissed him for a long while until they were both out of breath.

Jim had backed off and spoke the first words

“Your bed. Shirt off. Now. Be there in a moment.” He pressed a kiss against Sebastian’s jaw and trotted off to his bedroom.

Sebastian whet to his own room and put his rumpled shirt and jacket on the drawers and Jim then came in grinning, holding two sets of handcuffs.


End file.
